


Bubble, Bumble, Bungle

by chameleontattoos



Category: Our Life: Beginnings & Always (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29427630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chameleontattoos/pseuds/chameleontattoos
Summary: “It’s growing ice!” Cove exclaims. The round, clear shape quickly freezes over, until the bubble looks more like a big milky marble. “I didn’t know bubbles could do that.”Charlie frowns at the TV, clearly trying to puzzle out how such an impossible magic trick could’ve happened. “Me neither. I thought it was just water that froze.”Cove cocks his head, mind already starting to whir.It’s just ice, right? How hard can it be?
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Bubble, Bumble, Bungle

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written for "Wonderful Winter", a Cove-focused and winter-themed zine!

Wind gusts through the empty streets of Sunset Bird.

All but the most dedicated beach-goers have left the sea and sand behind in favour of holing up indoors. Lizzie’s Park stands abandoned by its mistress; its lonely swings are tilted to-and-fro by the steady gust coming off the ocean.

Several streets away in the living room of the Griswold residence, Cove and Charlie sit together on the lounge with their curious eyes glued to the television.

Cove swings his legs, carefully choosing himself another sandwich. Charlie and Lizzie’s Mommy made them for everyone to share, and the plate is set _just_ within his reach on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Well—technically, the plate only has _most_ of the sandwiches. Lizzie made a fuss about wanting to make sure she got an even share, so she got her own smaller plate. Nobody else is allowed to touch, not even Shiloh; and Cove _knows_ that Lizzie knows that Shiloh wants one of hers. She’s doing that thing that people do where she’s definitely not looking at him, on purpose.

It’s not even like Lizzie has different sandwiches to what’s on the big plate. Shiloh just wants hers because they’re _hers_.

But anyway, Cove thinks that’s dumb. What’s the point of having food to share if you get your own special food to not-share anyway? She doesn’t even have any allergies.

Sandwich now in hand, he looks back up at the TV just in time to see a person in a long white coat blow a big, _big_ bubble. “What are they doing?” he asks, brow creasing in confusion.

It looks cold, wherever the TV-people are. And he’s always figured that bubbles were a summertime game.

“I dunno,” Charlie replies, shrugging lightly.

The pair of them watch, spellbound, as the bubble—

“It’s growing ice!” Cove exclaims. The round, clear shape quickly freezes over, until the bubble looks more like a big milky marble. “I didn’t know bubbles could do that.”

Charlie frowns at the TV, clearly trying to puzzle out how such an impossible magic trick could’ve happened. “Me neither. I thought it was just water that froze.”

Cove cocks his head, mind already starting to whir.

It’s just ice, right? How hard can it be?

_Very_ hard, is the answer. Very, _very_ hard.

It shouldn’t be so tricky—should it? Blow a bubble, put it on the ground without making it pop, and wait. Cove has done math problems that were more difficult than that. But for some reason, the bubbles just don’t want to _go_. Either they burst before he can get them off the wand, or they burst before they can freeze.

Maybe he should ask his Dad for help. Bubbles always seem to spill over everywhere when Dad washes the dishes; he probably knows some tricks.

Cove thinks on this for a moment.

“Nah, that doesn’t sound right,” he mutters, reaching for the bottle of green detergent again. He almost got it last time, he’s _sure_ of it. The wind is just too… too _windy_ , that’s all.

Cliff stands by the kitchen window, drying a mug with a dish-towel. He has the perfect vantage point from which to watch his determined little rascal of a son valiantly wrestle with surface tension and dish soap.

He _thinks_ he understands what Cove is trying to replicate. The boy had said something about a video he’d seen while he was over at the Griswolds’ place; however, in typical Cove fashion, that had been _all_ he said. Thankfully, Noelani had been kind enough to explain that the source of his son’s inspiration was an experiment involving ice crystals on soap bubbles.

Which would, at least, explain the ransacking that the shelves under the kitchen sink have been subjected to. Cliff has been left with one measly half-cup of washing liquid to clean their lunch plates with—it’s fine, though. Just this once. He’s just glad that Cove is happy enough to conduct what must be a _very_ important scientific experiment in his own backyard, instead of scooting away to the neighbours’.

Cliff is yet to be forgiven for the whole ‘moved away from home’ situation. He doesn’t know what he’d do if it weren’t for the fully functional parent-child household right across the street.

What Cove hasn’t seemed to put together, though, is that for something to freeze, it needs to be—well, _freezing_. Southern Cali can get somewhat nippy in winter, sure—even this past week, temperatures had dropped to the high forties—but ‘cold enough to freeze a bubble’ is the kind of thing reserved for states like Alaska.

This is only really a problem because Cliff knows all too well that Cove _will not_ give him any of the detergent back until his master plan either succeeds or goes down in sudsy flames.

He puts the mug down with a sigh, resigning himself to his inevitable, soapless fate.


End file.
